What Lies Past the End of the Road?
by Tyranusfan
Summary: Future fic. Sam and Dean try to live a normal life after the war with the demons, but will the past let them go? Rated T to be safe. Written for SFTCOLARS summer challenge. Later chapters added at readers' request.
1. Chapter 1

_This was written for the SFTCOL(AR)S second Summer Secret Santa challenge. _

_It's for HopeCalaris, who requested a future fic where the brothers have a family, but still hunt and Sam still has visions. I tried to incorporate everything you mentioned._

_Special thanks goes out to Faye Dartmouth and geminigrl11 for really saving my butt on this fic. I was drowning until they threw me ropes._

_Edited December 2007, to correct a timeline issue. Thanks to geminigrl11 for helping clean that up!_

_I own nothing. Reviews craved. _

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**What Lies Past the End of the Road?**

_Present Day _

_Late-Summer, 2015._

Sam Winchester yawned as he dropped onto the back steps of his house. _His _house. That had taken some getting used to. Some days he'd wake up, and it would still take a few minutes to remember that he wasn't in a motel, and that it wasn't his brother curled up beside him.

_Eww_... He frowned, disturbed by this disgusting early morning detour his thoughts had taken. Dean never "curled up beside him," even when they _had _shared a bed two decades earlier. Sam stopped that line of thinking before he could dig a deeper hole, and just focused on getting his first cup of coffee down.

The sun was just now peeking over the tree line beyond his backyard. It was just light enough to see the runes he and Dean had carved into the trunks of the seven largest trees, which secured a safe perimeter around the two houses. He sipped at his hot beverage and just watched as the day grew brighter.

He was so absorbed in the view that he didn't hear the door open behind him. His first clue that he was no longer alone was when two arms snaked their way beneath his and pulled him into a tight embrace. He glanced back and found himself face to face with Sarah.

His wife's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Getting rusty, hunter boy..."

"Nah," he replied, kissing her. "I was just luring you in."

"You're up early...even for you," she said. Sam was still the early riser, even after all these years.

"Had a nightmare to deal with...about four-thirty. He couldn't go back to sleep for a while, and I just stayed up."

"I didn't hear him crying…" She said, frowning.

"You stayed up with him night before last. You needed to sleep, so I took care of it. Besides, it was my turn, anyway."

"Well, aren't you a good husband…?" Sarah teased.

"Why, yes, I am," he retorted easily.

Sam tightened his grip on her hands, and with one move spun her around and pulled her into his lap, then kissed her a second time. "Now...still think I'm rusty?"

"I think you're _bad_..." she said, laughing as he leaned in for another kiss.

A small voice called out from the kitchen window. "Mom...where're the Fruit Loops?"

Sam sighed, exasperated, and dropped his forehead onto his smiling wife's. "Duty calls?"

"As usual. Little Dean has the _worst _timing. It's uncanny..." Sarah said, smiling as she reluctantly slid off her husband's lap. Little Dean also had super-hearing.

"It's _J.D_., mom! I hate 'Little Dean!'" the precocious four-and-a-half year-old cried indignantly. Sam grinned even as Sarah rolled her eyes, but still yelled back despite his amusement.

"Don't correct your mother, _John Dean_."

A grumble preceded the quiet answer. "Yes, sir. Sorry, Mom."

"He's grumpy this morning," Sarah observed softly, so their son wouldn't hear.

Sam polished off the last of his coffee, and handed Sarah the empty mug as she headed back in. "Yeah. Speaking of little Deans...it's time to wake the neighbor."

As his wife disappeared into the house to take care of Little Dean, Sam stood, stretched, and walked towards the house next door. Using the side of the air conditioner for a boost, he pulled himself up by the window sill, removed the screen, and stuck his head inside the open window.

"Hey, Dean?" he shouted merrily at the lumpy mass under the covers on the bed.

An angry, but otherwise unintelligible, mumble was the only response. He grinned and tried again. "Dean?"

"WHAT?!"

Sam reached down and yanked the covers out from over his older, grumpier brother's head. "Awake yet?"

He froze when the blade of Dean's knife shot up and pressed against his neck. "It's only me."

Dean opened his eyes and blinked a few times, trying to focus. For an awful moment, there was no hint of recognition in Dean's eyes. But Sam wasn't offended by his brother's skittishness.

_Being sent to hell by a crossroads demon will do that to a person_, Sam thought sadly. Dean's deal to bring Sam back to life had nearly cost him his soul. He'd spent almost six months in hell, before Sam managed to get him back. In a lot of ways, his brother had never been the same after that experience.

The early morning skittishness was only the tip of the iceberg. Dean still suffered violent mood swings; Sam had gotten quite a few bruises before learning how to predict the dangerous ones. They'd been gradually getting better the past few months, though.

"You trying to get yourself killed, Sammy?" Dean rumbled as he withdrew the knife and placed it on the nightstand.

"I wake you up the same way every day, and we have the same conversation, man."

"You'd think it would sink in by now... What time is it anyway--- Five-thirty?!"

Sam grunted as he pulled himself up, levering himself through the window. "Make room, bro."

Dean sighed with irritation even as he rolled out of the way. Sam pulled himself through, executing a sloppy back-flip and landing on the bed beside Dean. The bouncing mattress almost dumped Dean into the floor. "Aw, man... Sam!"

"Time to get up, dude. You have appointments to keep, people to see."

"Argh...I hate you," Dean mumbled.

"Yeah, I know."

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_Present Day_

_A few hours later_

Sam checked his book again to make sure he was done for the day. Thankfully, he was.

Success had its downsides.

His last appointment---a young college coed who'd asked for an interview to discuss his and Dean's work, only to see Sam's wedding band and abruptly end the meeting---had left his office only a few minutes before. She was the latest in a recent line of "supernatural groupies," who had seen them on the local news and started obsessing over them.

Of his seven meetings scheduled for that day, two had been simple poltergeist cleansings---which Sam and Dean usually performed at night during the week, since they didn't take long---three had been missing persons cases which would require a lot of research, and two had been wastes of time. So far, it had been a slow week.

He wondered if Dean's appointments had been any more productive.

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_Spring, 2010_

_The demons lose the war…._

The war had taken a toll on everyone, friends and enemies alike. Ellen had been killed while trying to exorcise a demon in Detroit. Bobby had been blinded in one eye, though that hadn't slowed the older man down at all.

Gordon Walker had escaped from prison, and despite the worsening war had once again started hunting Lenore and her den of vampires. They'd ambushed and killed him in self-defense. Sam didn't shed any tears, after all the pain the deranged sociopath had caused.

Jo had become a decent hunter in her own right, and the last they'd heard, she'd teamed up with a few other young hunters in the Pacific Northwest after her mother's death.

Joshua and Jefferson had last been heard from when they were heading into Savannah during the third and final year of the conflict. No trace of them had been found.

Dean and Sam had hunted in virtually every state during the war, being able to count on one hand the number of times they'd stayed in the same state for more than a few days. During the second year, they'd gotten word that the demons were slashing and burning their way through New York State.

They got Sarah out of New Paltz mere moments before the town had burned to the ground. The entire town. She still had burn scars, and a few other less visible, but more haunting, scars to prove it

Her father and her extended family hadn't been so lucky.

Sam had been drawn to her rescue by a vision. The visions had never stopped, the way he'd thought they would after the Yellow-Eyed Demon was dead. They were more sporadic, now, but they were still tied to other psychic kids like him---though they encountered only a few of them---and demonic activity.

Sam and Dean took Sarah to New Jersey to hole up in one of Joshua's safehouses. She spent the rest of the war in Lawrence, under Missouri's protection.

By the time the war was over, they were scarred, exhausted physically and emotionally. So, when Dean---of all people---had suggested that they settle down somewhere and enjoy the peace a bit, Sam had agreed. After making sure Dean wasn't possessed or a shapeshifter, of course. They picked out two side-by-side houses in a picturesque suburb of Topeka---where they'd been when the war finally ended---laid the groundwork for their professional hunting business and settled down.

His brother's life had finally taken a turn for the better, too, following a dark time after his escape from Hell. It had taken Dean a while to reorient himself to life, and the war hadn't helped. They were always on the move, on the hunt. Dean still handled himself like the consummate hunter he'd always been, but there was a darkness in him now---shadows under his eyes and nightmares when he slept and a tenseness that even Sam's presence at his side didn't completely ease.

In the second year of the war, after Sam had rescued him, Dean had saved FBI agent Hendrickson---and his family---from a pack of demons near Washington, D.C. The agent finally accepted what he'd been hearing all along, and let Dean leave. He hadn't been happy about it, but even a cynical government agent like Hendrickson couldn't ignore what he'd seen with his own eyes.

They got an unsigned note a few weeks later, through a contact, telling them that Dean's record had been "lost," and that he was a free man. Sam had no problem figuring out who had sent it. A bag of protection charms and materials with instructions had appeared on Hendrickson's doorstep a few days later.

It had taken a while for them to get used to not hiding when police cars went by. Dean even got a driver's license with his own name on it. Times were definitely changing for them.

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_Christmas Day, 2010_

Winchester Investigations had taken Sam and Dean less than a year to put together, but was still an enormous undertaking. They offered a range of services, from simple private eye work to bounty-hunting. Since the jobs weren't limited to "normal" missing persons and the like, they also hunted supernatural creatures as they always had. The difference was, now they got paid for their services. Some of their clients had already paid extremely well, as a matter of fact, and the money had helped them lease a store front and build the new office.

Sam shook his head at that thought. When he and Dean were kids, their Dad had drilled it into them that "the family business" was a secret. People---normal people with normal lives---simply didn't understand. Many simply didn't _want _to understand.

Things were very different now.

The Yellow-Eyed Demon's army, and the three years of war waged on Earth against those evil creatures, had thrust hunting---and hunters---into the public eye. The devastation those demons had wrought on the world was still being cleaned up. Across the Midwestern United States, whole swaths of territory had been destroyed. Tens of thousands of people had died. By the time humanity had the ability, and the understanding, to fight back, it had been almost too late.

The hunting community, until then nomadic and virtually underground, had organized. Combining their talents and numbers, they'd made a stand and managed to halt the demons' advance. Eventually, when the problem became too obvious to ignore---and after several prominent people had witnessed things first-hand---the government had become involved. Sam didn't know all the details of how, or who taught them, but once the Army intervened with troops trained to fight demons, the tide of the war had shifted quickly into humanity's favor.

Afterwards, hunters no longer needed to live off the grid. Saving the world from an apocalypse had thrust them into the mainstream. Their secret was out. The world ended up was far safer that way.

There were still a few demons on the loose, though the army had been largely defeated. Other, lower creatures, like werewolves, vampires, and other cryptids, had grown more audacious after the conflict. Hunters were in the yellow pages now. Certain people still looked down their noses at them, but by and large, hunters were the new heroes.

Winchester Investigations had been one of several businesses that had capitalized on the new hunter status. Sam and Dean had decided to open it together. Years of breaking laws had left Sam's law career a distant and forever unattainable dream, but _this_ was a way he could help the world and put his long-honed hunting skills to good use. This was their legacy, and more importantly, their father's legacy: a place where people could turn for help, when normal channels were unavailable to them, or simply useless.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the newly completed store front, and got out. Sam followed. They settled beside the car, pulling their coats tighter against the bone-chilling Midwestern winter weather.

"Opening day, tomorrow…" Dean said quietly.

"Yeah," Sam replied, eyeing what was soon to be their headquarters. "You nervous?"

"Nah," Dean said automatically. "You?"

"No." _Not about this, anyway_….

They stood silently for a few minutes, both soaking in the reality of it. This was as close to "normal" as they'd ever be.

Well, except for one more thing….

"Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm gonna ask Sarah to marry me."

Dean eyed him for a moment, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, Sam feared that he wouldn't approve. He needed Dean's blessing…it was the closest he'd ever get to having Dad's.

"About time…" Dean finally said. "You've been living together for six months, already."

"You aren't surprised?" Sam asked, curious as to the blasé reaction.

"When was the last time anything you did surprised me, Sammy?"

"Yesterday."

"That wasn't surprise, I just thought the way you handled that zombie was stupid."

Sam grinned. "Yeah, whatever. I surprised you."

Silence returned for a few moments, before Dean spoke again.

"The ring you picked out is too small. We'll go and find a better one next week."

"Too sm---? How'd you know I picked out a ring already?"

Dean smirked at him. "What did I _just_ say?"

Sam glowered. "Jerk."

"Let's go see if Missouri has any eggnog left. It's freakin' freezing out here."

Sam nodded and stepped back to his door. "Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

A faint smile crossed Dean's face, before the usual smirk returned. "Don't mention it."

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_Present Day, 2015_

Sam was startled out of his musings when Dean's head popped through the door to the office. "Daydreaming again, Geek Boy?"

_Then again, some things about Dean haven't changed at all_.

"Yeah. Just...thinking about my last interview," Sam hedged.

"That steamy brunette? She was hot!"

Sam smirked and held up his ring finger. "Yeah, well, she cooled off real fast when she saw this."

"Aw, Sammy...you had a fan," Dean cooed, dropping into the chair next to Sam's desk.

Reclining in his own chair, Sam grinned. "I gave her your number for a follow-up interview before she left."

Dean returned the grin. "You are an awesome brother, dude."

"How'd your meetings go?"

"Eh," Dean waved dismissively. "Suppliers are giving us headaches. Seems there's been a run on rock salt and cartridges for shotguns since that demon was spotted in Wichita. It's different when they put the sightings on the news."

"Yeah," Sam mused, shaking his head. _What a brave new world_...

He glanced over at the research spread out on the side table. "Any more leads on that missing persons case?"

"Nada. All the calls I made were worthless. No leads."

Sherry Robinson, a 19-year-old from Lawrence, had gone missing almost a week earlier. Her parents had contacted them when the police investigation yielded nothing. Sam and Dean had found nothing that pointed to her whereabouts thus far, or why she had disappeared.

"Well," Sam mused. "We'll look over the material again after dinner, okay? Maybe we missed something. You're still coming over, right?"

"What's for dinner again?" Dean asked, obviously teasing.

"Lasagna."

"Ooh..." Dean whistled, smiling, then frowned. "Wait, who's cooking, you or Sarah?"

"Sarah. You ass."

A dark look flashed across Dean's face for a moment, before returning to his trademark smirk. "Awesome. You burn it."

A hint of sadness entered Sam's thoughts. Dean's moods were swinging again. He just hoped the episode passed before dinner. J.D. was looking forward to having dinner with his uncle. But, he covered his concerns. "Do not."

"Do too."

Sam yawned before he could retort. Dean frowned. "You look tired, Sammy."

Sam covered his mouth as another yawn erupted. "Little Dean had a nightmare this morning. I couldn't go back to sleep after that…."

"What'd he dream about?" Dean asked casually, flipping through pages in Sherry Robinson's missing persons file.

"Don't know, he wouldn't say. Just wanted me to sit with him."

Dean shrugged. "Probably up watching horror movies again."

"Which I told you not to let him watch," Sam teased.

"Blah, blah, blah," Dean griped, standing. "Those movies aren't that bad. I used to stay up watching them all the time."

"Which explains a lot," Sam called after him.

Dean flipped him the bird as he left the office.

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_May, 2013_

Dean's personal life was a wreck, despite his reprieve from the law and his victorious "war record," as other hunters called it. He'd been engaged for a short time to a beautiful young doctor named Liz, whom he'd met at Sarah's OB-GYN. They tried, really tried, to make it work. But, she couldn't accept that Dean wanted to continue hunting, in any capacity, and Dean's ongoing psychological issues after spending six months in Hell only made things worse.

He'd become more aggressive after returning. As a hunter, he could be terrifying, even to Sam. But the anger that made him such a fierce warrior in the field bled into his life at home. He didn't like being corrected. He didn't like being surprised. He didn't like explaining himself to people that he felt should know how he worked. The resentment, anger, and pain overwhelmed him.

Liz didn't like how hunting seemed to be holding him back. He had buried his emotions during the war, repressing his memories of the time in hell, and continued the practice long after it ended. She feared an explosion if he didn't face those feelings. Hunting only gave him reasons to bury those feelings further.

What had begun as disagreements over Dean's continued hunting had evolved into room-shaking arguments. The harder she tried to pry him away from the dangerous life he led, the harder he'd clung to it. After a few months, it had become too painful for both of them, and Liz called off the engagement. Dean had been devastated. After that experience, it was like he didn't even want to try again.

It depressed Sam that so many things had changed with Dean. Some days, he had to walk on eggshells because his brother's moods would swing erratically. Others, he'd think he'd pissed Dean off, only to have him pop in a few minutes later like nothing had happened. Both he and Sarah had begged Dean to see a psychologist---nowadays telling one you'd been in hell _didn't _automatically land you in a mental institution---but Dean had adamantly refused.

They sat in a secluded corner of a bar outside Nashville. They'd run down a rawhead in North Carolina, and were heading home. Dean was in a happy mood, so Sam decided to take a chance and reveal the idea he'd been developing.

"Hey, listen…Sarah introduced me to this friend of hers the other day. She's an art dealer. Travels a lot."

Dean took a swig of his beer, looking disinterested. "And?"

Sam swallowed thickly, it was now or never. "And…I think you should meet her."

Dean's gaze hardened. "Stop it, Sam."

"Dean, come on. How long are you going to torture yourself? Liz left three months ago."

"Thanks for the calendar update."

"It wasn't your fault, Dean. She didn't understand what you'd been through."

"And _you_ do?!"

Sam flinched at the rebuke. He didn't lie. "No. I don't. Not much of it, anyway. No one can."

Dean's face softened abruptly. He seemed to deflate before Sam's eyes. "Sammy…I appreciate you trying to help. But…" he thumped his chest. "I lost Liz because I can't control _this_. And it was awful. I can't put myself through that again right now."

Reluctantly, Sam gave in to the terrible sense of failure that permeated the air around him, and nodded. Nothing he could think of to say would change Dean's mind, he already knew that. The worst part was that his brother was right.

Dean just sat biting his lip for a moment, then got up from the table. "Let's hit the road."

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_Present Day_

_That Night_

Putting Dean and Little Dean together was always an adventure. Dinner was no exception. Sam's son was virtually a carbon copy of his brother at that age. Blonde hair, hyperactive, fearless. He had Sam's deep brown eyes, gangly height, and an intellect that was already beginning to show.

But he had Dean's sense of humor and absolute lack of decorum, and putting the two together was a parent's worst nightmare. Dinner had deteriorated into a food fight, much to Sam and Sarah's dismay. So, Dean and his protégé were sentenced to cleaning the dining room, while Sam retired to the kitchen with his wife.

"Nice to see Dean laughing," Sarah said quietly once they were out of earshot. "Even if he is acting J.D.'s age."

She was right. Dean had made a lot of progress, and Sam was glad his brother was finally finding some peace. After more than five years since being rescued from Hell, the worst seemed to be behind him.

Sam laughed. "Well, Little Dean still wants a brother. Maybe Dean's trying to show him the _downside_ of having one…."

Sarah leaned back into him, flashing him a sad smile. "That your way of saying you're up for trying again tonight?"

Sam shot her a devilish grin and pulled her into his arms. "I try _every_ night."

"Doesn't work that way," she replied, laughing. "But I do like your energy."

"Hmm…let's see if you're still saying that in the morning…" he whispered into her hair.

"Ugh, too much information, Sammy!" Dean cried mockingly as he entered the kitchen. He dumped a wad of dirty paper towels in the trash and shot the couple a shit-eating grin.

Sam rolled his eyes, then glanced at the door. He worried that his son might have heard them talking too. "Is, uh, J.D.---?"

Dean pointed behind him. "Running toward the living room last I saw him. He's a pistol, man."

The statement was punctuated by a loud crash from the direction of said living room. Sarah sighed and rested her head against Sam's shoulder for a moment before pushing away. "That's one way to put it. I'll go check the damage…."

She stalked out, calling her son's name. Dean chuckled. "Full head of steam too…. Just like you, Sammy."

Sam smiled at that, then fidgeted with a dishtowel, turning sheepishly to Dean. "You feel like giving the 'full head of steam' a place to sleep tonight?"

Dean blinked at him for a moment, before his eyebrows rose in surprise. "You two trying again? Is it time already?"

"Yeah," Sam muttered, glancing toward the door again. "She wants another so bad, Dean. God, so do I…."

Dean lowered his voice as well, stepping closer and patting Sam's shoulder. "It'll work out, man. Give it time."

Sam grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, using the action to cover wiping his eyes. Dean's expression told him he was unsuccessful. "I dunno, Dean. After what those demons did to her--- The docs said that J.D. was a _miracle_, and it probably wouldn't happen twice. And we've been trying for so long…."

"You shouldn't give up, Sammy," Dean said, settling against the counter closer to Sam. "Though, I guess maybe we should have kept that rabbit's foot…."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, maybe we should have."

"And, dude, close your curtains this time! Geez…."

"Voyeuristic jerk," Sam shot back, laughing harder.

"Horny bitch!"

Sam was about to shoot back, when pain exploded behind his eyes and everything went black.

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_Present Day_

_A short time later that night_

He swam toward consciousness. Something cold and wet was pressing against his forehead, and for a moment, it made him forget the painful pulsations of his skull. But only for a moment. As his awareness grew stronger, so did the debilitating headache.

Sam tried to sit up, but was immediately pushed back down by two sets of hands on his shoulders.

"Whoa, there, tough guy, just rest for a minute," he heard Dean say.

"Dean…we have to get to Wichita," Sam said through a groan.

The wet cloth that had been covering his eyes was removed, and he blinked against the harsh lights of the room. He realized then that he was lying on the sofa. Odd, he remembered being in the kitchen….

Sarah loomed into view. "Relax, baby…let it pass."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to do as they were telling him. He hadn't had a vision this bad in months. It felt like his head was trying to break open. The demon he saw must be a powerful one.

The agony told him that this one was going to be a real bitch.

Of course, it also had to do with another problem they wanted answers to.

"Dean…Sherry Robinson…."

His brother frowned. "The missing chick?"

Sam nodded, but immediately regretted it. "She's possessed. The demon we heard about in Wichita took her. We gotta---"

Dean held up a hand. "Tell me what you saw."

Sam tried to put the erratic jumble of images together long enough to describe them. The headache was making that difficult. "Um…the missing girl Sherry…I saw her chasing these two teenagers. They were in a dark alley, they couldn't get out, the demon was stopping them. It backed them into a corner and killed them. Uh…and there was a paper. The Wichita Eagle…um, I think it said Saturday...uh, yeah, the 14th."

With a satisfied grunt, Dean nodded. "The 14th, huh? That's over a week from now. We can get down there in plenty of time."

Rubbing his temples, Sam finally managed to sit up a little. "We know anybody in the area?"

Dean pursed his lips. "I think Bobby was heading down there. He mentioned it on the phone the other day. I'll see if we can hook up with him."

Sam nodded. Sarah was brushing his damp hair away from his face, and reached down to retrieve the cloth. "I'll get you some more ice."

He muttered his thanks as she rose, then noticed that Dean's eyes were focused on something across the room. Following the stare, he saw what it was. A scared, brown eye surrounded by a mop of unruly blond hair peeked around the corner from the hallway.

"J.D.?"

The boy hesitantly stepped around the corner, looking like he'd been caught in the proverbial cookie jar. Sam called him over to the sofa.

"Are you okay, Daddy?"

_Daddy_. Occasionally, the title still took Sam by surprise. "Yeah…I'm fine kiddo. It's just a headache."

The four, going on five-year-old glanced from Sam to Dean and back. "Like the ones Uncle Dean gets when he listens to pansy-ass emo music?"

Sam's mouth fell open at that. "John Dean, _language_."

"But, that's what Uncle Dean said!"

Sam looked to Dean, who had suddenly found the carpet fascinating, and was shooting embarrassed glances through his eyelashes.

With a sigh, Sam pulled his son close, sending a glare his brother's way. "Sometimes, adults say things they shouldn't. It doesn't mean you can repeat bad words, all right?"

J.D. just stared at him, obviously not comprehending what he meant. "But, Uncle Dean said so."

Sam shook his head. J.D. shared Dean's hardheadedness too. "Just…don't say it in front of your mom, okay?"

_That_, J.D. got, nodding solemnly. "Okay, Daddy."

Dean stepped in at that point, tapping the child's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo…you wanna help your dad get better?"

"Uh-huh!" came the excited reply.

"Well, go into the kitchen and help your mom with the ice and the medicine, okay? We'll get your dad up and better in no time."

With a happy nod of his head, J.D. took off toward the kitchen. That need to help was something else he shared with his Dad and Uncle. Sam watched him bound from the room, and then turned an icy look on his sibling.

"'Pansy-ass emo music?'"

Dean blanched, obviously searching for a good lie. He didn't seem to find one. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Sam. The kid's crazy, he doesn't know what he's talking about."

Sam tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up in him. "Sarah's gonna kill you…."

They just shared the moment, and the release of tension actually helped Sam's head a little. "So…Wichita…."

Dean gave him a firm nod. "I'll call Bobby; see what he knows. We can hook up with him in a few days and track her down."

"Dean, we should---"

"You said the date was the 14th, right?"

Sam reluctantly agreed. "Yes."

"That gives us plenty of time. We go in now, the demon might get spooked and we'll lose the trail. Just control your OCD and let me take care of things."

"Great…I can hardly wait to see how this turns out."

"I know. I'm sure I'll surprise even myself," Dean smirked. "Now, you lay back down. I'll take J.D. back to my place and call Sherry's parents…tell them we have a lead. You and Sarah take care of business here, and we'll make a plan tomorrow."

"Dean…I can't," he lowered his voice. "I just saw two people get _murdered_."

"What you saw isn't gonna happen, little brother. We'll stop that thing before the vision comes true."

Sam frowned, unable to share his brother's confidence. Dean noticed.

"Life goes on for us, too, Sammy."

He couldn't argue with that. After so long, after sacrificing so much, the Winchesters had finally found a life of their own…as unconventional as it might have been. When Sam considered the way they were now he couldn't help but feel a little of Dean's confidence spring to life inside him.

Times _had_ changed, and they faced life on their own terms now.

And the small part of him that had longed for a "normal life" all those years ago rejoiced.

END


	2. The Long Road to Normal

_Okay, I couldn't leave the future 'verse I created for HopeCalaris last summer alone. This is a sequel to that story. I added it as a second chapter so people could refresh themselves on the first if they needed to. I know it's been a long time._

_Geminigrl11 helped me out enormously here with her editing skills._

_And, yes, I will be getting back to Fallen now. _

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**Chapter 2**

**The Long Road (to Normal)**

_Late Summer, 2015_

_The Morning After_

"Sam?"

The soft voice called to him, penetrating the warm cocoon his mind had created. He ignored it, too comfortable to be disturbed.

"Sam?"

Something had joined the voice. That something was tickling his nose. He scrunched his face, trying to stop it. A grumble escaped his mouth, but he wasn't sure what he said.

"Sam? Baby? Wake up."

_Sarah?_ _What the_--- His cocoon evaporated, leaving the bitter disappointment of morning in its wake. Sam slowly opened his eyes, having to blink a few times to see anything but a bright blur.

"Sam? Can you move? My foot's asleep," the voice returned, this time coming out of Sarah's mouth.

"'m asleep 'oo," he mumbled, trying to swallow around the wad of cotton in his mouth. Or was that hair?

He tasted and smelled something faintly resembling vanilla. _Yeah, definitely hair_. Why was Sarah's hair in his mouth?

His vision finally cleared enough for him to see Sarah's sleepy eyes looking urgently into his. The last of the cobwebs were slowly falling away from his mind.

"What? What's wrong?"

Her hand slid down his jawline. "You're lying on my foot, it's asleep, and I'm dying for a cup of coffee."

"Oh," he rasped, looking down the bed to see himself wrapped around his wife like a python. "Give me a second…."

It took a few long seconds for him to find the right sequence of commands to make his muscles move, but he was finally able to disentangle himself and let Sarah up. She lingered for a moment, her hands on his chest, before sliding to the edge, and hanging her feet off the bed.

"What time is it?"

"Um," Sarah was squinting at something Sam couldn't see. Probably the clock. "Six-thirty."

A little late for him, but….

"Do we _really_ have to get up?" Sam asked sleepily.

Sarah was rubbing her foot, looking back at him with a wry smile. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On how long Dean's willing to keep J.D. at his house."

Sam snorted. "Heh. Dean won't be out of bed for at least--- Geez. He'll stay in bed until noon, if no one wakes him up."

Sarah's smile became a grin. "And Little Dean's exactly the same…. Hmm. _And_, we have a few more days to, uh…_try_."

Sam's brain came back online at that point, and the events of the last twelve hours returned to him. Last night had been the first chance for him and Sarah to try to conceive a second child since the new round of therapy started. They'd tried for so long now….

She slid back onto the bed, and Sam extended his arms as she settled back next to him. He had just moved in for a kiss when she placed a hand on his chin.

"Ah, crap. You're supposed to plan your Wichita hunt with Dean today."

Sam raised his head high enough to see the alarm clock. The red numbers read six-thirty-five. "Well, we have about five more hours before Dean wakes up. Any idea how we might spend them?"

The look on Sarah's face told him she knew exactly what to do.

The coffee plan was quickly forgotten.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_October, 2009_

_The Second Year of the War_

They were in West Virginia, trying to track a demon that had murdered five people in three towns, when it hit. Dean had just parked in front of the motel room and was gathering the bags, not even seeing Sam clutch his head, at first.

The vision was so bad that Sam passed out beside the Impala. He saw a pack of demons---vicious, cruel bastards---sweeping across the middle of New York State, leaving a trail of destruction and terror in their wake. Whole towns turning against each other as the demons possessed innocents and stirred up hatred and fear. Whole populations turning on each other as ancient feuds and distrust was expertly fanned. Towns burning while National Guard troops stretched themselves too thin, trying to contain the madness.

New Paltz was next. He saw Sarah Blake's family murdered in their beds, and Sarah herself swinging from a telephone pole as the town went up in flames.

He awoke screaming Sarah's name.

"Dean…we have to get to New York, now!"

Dean jerked back from where he was checking Sam's pulse. "Jesus! Sam, what is it?"

"We gotta go," Sam wheezed, trying to claw his way back into the car. Dean held him back, trying to reason with him.

"Sammy, tell me what's wrong! What did you see?"

"Sarah--- Dean, it's Sarah, she's gonna die…." Sam couldn't let it happen. He still held himself responsible for their mother, and Jess, and Madison…he couldn't let another innocent die just because she'd cared for him. It was irrational, and on some level he knew that. But, he had just rescued his brother from Hell, and he refused to lose anyone else. Ever again. Bobby had been telling him lately that he was growing more like John Winchester every day. He'd finally decided to take it as a compliment.

Dean slammed on the proverbial brakes, though. "Sam, we have a hunt right in front of us, all right? This demon's going to keep killing people unless we find it. After we do, we can go find Sarah, okay? We can't be in two places at once. We need to stay here."

Sam reluctantly nodded, but it wasn't really in agreement. He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Dean that the demon they were tracking hadn't shown up in either of the two towns they'd recently checked. He wanted to say that they'd already let this one slip through their fingers, and that they knew it, but Dean was just too proud to admit it. He wanted to say that Dean could stay while he went to New York on his own.

All that stayed unspoken, though. Sam's head was pounding with a furious migraine, and he felt the urge to retch building inside him with every pulse of pain. Arguing was out of the question. And, in any event, Sam knew he'd be bluffing about leaving. He didn't want to let Dean out of his sight. They both felt that way.

After Dean's six months of suffering, and all that Sam had gone through to get him back, they both practically lived in each other's back pockets, more so even than after the Yellow-Eyed Demon had been killed.

Dean helped Sam into the room, and left him near the toilet, knowing how bad the aftereffects of Sam's visions could get, and went about securing the room for the night. The images stayed on instant replay in Sam's head, even after Dean had gotten him into one of the beds and doped him up with painkillers.

The next day passed as they continued their fruitless search for the demon's trail in Clarksburg. They found nothing. Again. Sam didn't say anything, but he knew Dean well enough to know that he was thinking the same thing. It _had_ slipped past them again. Just like it had in Parkersburg. And Columbus. And Northridge.

The damned thing was smart. It knew they were closing in on it.

They sat in the car, fuming. Both knew that the bastard might well be a hundred miles away by then. Dean, angrily flipping the Colt over and over in his hand, wondered aloud if they shouldn't call Bobby. Neither of them could figure out how it kept getting away.

Sam secretly welcomed the mystery and the frustration, as it distracted him from the memory what he'd seen happening to Sarah. He kept telling himself that Dean was right. They needed to stay on this hunt as long as possible. The demon had killed, and would again if they didn't find it.

That night, the full-fledged vision hit him again when they got the first trickle of news from New York. It had started: Sarah would be dead in a matter of days. Nothing could distract Sam from it after the second time. He'd crawled into bed after emptying his stomach of everything he'd eaten that day, but found no rest. He tossed and turned all night, the images haunting him, and even though Dean never said and Sam never asked, he knew his brother had stayed up all night, too.

By morning, he couldn't take it anymore. The vision was playing constantly in his mind, nonstop. He scared the crap out of Dean by leaping up from the dinette table in the room, leaving his meager breakfast untouched.

"I'm sorry. Dean--- I'm sorry. I know you said we need to wait, but--- This demon's long gone, we both know that. We're not gonna find it here. I _have_ to get to New York. I'll go alone if I need to. I know you want to stay here---"

"Sammy," Dean interrupted, "I think you're right, okay? The demon's Houdini'd again. We'll go. I'll call Bobby and ask him if anyone's nearby to pick up the job."

"Thank you," Sam whispered, tears threatening to fall. Between the constant migraine that threatened to explode his skull, and Dean's display of unequivocal trust, Sam's emotions were reeling.

"Hang in there, little brother. We'll get to her."

Dean broke every traffic law in the book on the trip northeast. Sam emptied half a bottle of aspirin.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Late October, 2015_

It took almost two weeks to hunt down the demon possessing Sherry Robinson; it ran them all over Wichita, and managed to sprain Sam's hand before Bobby could finish the exorcism.

After that, they got word of a suspected vampire nest outside of Dodge City, and then Missouri called them in because something was causing poltergeists to sprout up all over town. Those were simple, if time consuming, and at the very least, they gave Sam's wrist time to heal.

By the time they headed back home to Topeka, more than a month had gone by.

"Quiet!" Sam hissed as he struggled to find his door keys in the dark. "They're asleep by now."

Dean grimaced. "I _am_ being quiet. Find your damned keys already."

Sam muttered to himself in irritation; Dean had been antsy and quarrelsome all the way back from Lawrence. Sam was glad they were home, because he was about five minutes away from fratricide. He sighed in relief when he finally found the key and opened the door.

"Just drop the bags near---" Sam stopped when he realized that the television in the living room was still on.

Sarah was sitting, clutching a pillow, watching him. When Sam noticed the tears on her cheeks, he tossed his duffel aside and raced across the room. He knew Dean was close on his heels.

"Sarah? Sarah, are you all right? What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

She just looked at him for a moment, eyes glistening in the flickering glare of the television. "Sam…."

"What is it, baby? What's the matter? Where's J.D.?"

A smile flitted across her face before she answered, which confused Sam. "He's fine. He's asleep."

"Then what?" Sam pressed. At least nothing was wrong with his son. Sarah was crying, but looked happy. He was bewildered. "Sarah?"

When she finally spoke again, she shocked Sam, and left him utterly speechless for the second time since their relationship began.

"Sam…I'm pregnant."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_October 2009_

_The Second Year of the War _

_Two hours out from Clarksburg, West Virginia_

At first glance, the view from the Interstate seemed normal. It was still dark out. The guardrail raced by outside Sam's window, the dull thump-thump of the asphalt helping him focus on something other than the throbbing of his skull.

The darkness hid a great deal. Demons, spirits, cryptid creatures, even some things that hadn't been seen on Earth in centuries…all released through the Devil's Gate. All roaming freely, wreaking havoc on an unprepared world. With everything they'd seen, despite the tremendous personal victories Sam had achieved in rescuing Dean from the depth of Hell itself, it didn't alter the fact that humanity seemed to be losing this war. There were too many demons, and too few hunters.

Up ahead, miles in the distance, dark storm clouds filled the horizon to the North. Demonic activity often caused bizarre---violent---weather, and whatever was happening in New York was bad enough that Pennsylvania was experiencing the atmospheric disturbances, too.

He knew that tomorrow, meteorologists would dismiss the violent thunderheads as unseasonably bad weather, while news anchors would simultaneously report mass atrocities and death just a state away. Even at this stage of the war, few would make the connection. Most "normal" people preferred to believe that the rash of death and insanity was caused by humans, not paranormal creatures. It was crime. Or insanity. The signs of a decadent society.

People could convince themselves of almost anything.

Rumors passed through the hunting community implied that the world was changing—slowly gaining understanding of what was really happening. Influential people were occasionally being exposed to the dark reality of this undercover, back-road war that was raging. Those people were said to be spreading the word to those who might have the resources to tilt the playing field. But, that was all rumor. Sam feared it was merely deluded optimism, being passed around to raise the spirits of outgunned, exhausted hunters like themselves.

But, he had more pressing matters this night than the end of the world.

Sam finally got through to Sarah as they crossed the state line. She'd been watching the news. The governor was calling the Feds for help. It wouldn't be enough.

"Sarah, please. You and your Dad have to leave town, right now. Head south, We'll meet you in Newburgh. _Please."_

"Sam, I don't understand. What's happening? Why do we have to leave?"

She saw the reason on the local news even as they spoke on the phone. The violence was beginning in New Paltz that night. Sam told her what was causing it. _Who _was causing it.

"Sarah, head south. Get your dad and head south, I'll meet you."

"I have to find my dad..."

"Sarah! Now! Find him and get out as fast as you can! You don't have a lot of time!"

She ended the call, intent on her own rescue mission. Sam closed his phone and pressed it against his forehead. "Dean. We have to go faster."

The pedal was already to the floor.

Five hours later, they finally reached the outskirts of New Paltz. Sam tried Sarah's line repeatedly, but got no answer. He ignored the knot growing in his gut. They weren't too late. Sam wouldn't allow it.

The demons liked to take out the fire departments and police first, to ensure maximum chaos. The devastation they wrought, both in their true forms and through possessed human puppets, combined with an unusually dry season, whip localized blazes into out of control infernos. Raging fires were encroaching on the town by the time they reached Sarah's home.

It didn't look good. Her car was still in the driveway, but the house lights were out, and the front door was busted open. Sam grabbed the Colt off the car seat and bolted into the house, not waiting for Dean, who he trusted was on his heels in any event. Inside, it looked like a tornado had hit. Furniture, books and artwork were scattered everywhere. Glass crunched under their boots as they searched, calling Sarah's name frantically.

They reached the back of the house, finding the back door blown off its hinges and splintered on the back steps. There was debris strewn across the back yard, the remains of a patio set on one side. The destruction fell in a pattern suggesting a trail. Someone being chased.

Sam broke into a run, ignoring Dean's shouted "Sam, wait!" and clearing the back steps in one jump. He didn't slow, even when he slipped on something wet and sticky on the patio stones. The path led toward a grove of trees, and Sam followed it into the first opening he saw, the Colt drawn in front of him. He was vaguely aware that Dean was just behind him, a flask of holy water in each hand.

"Sarah!"

He found her a few hundred feet into the woods, a man straddling her. As Sam got closer he could see what the man was doing. Rage made his blood boil, turning murderous when the man heard their approach and turned black eyes toward him. Sam raised the gun without a thought and plugged the possessed man perfectly between the eyes. Dean would later praise his marksmanship.

It took every ounce of his self control not to empty the gun into the bastard. Only the knowledge that they only had ten of the Colt's bullets with them stopped him from doing just that. The electric blue glow crackling along the dead man's skull and eyes had barely subsided by the time Sam skidded to his knees at Sarah's side.

Sarah's face was covered in blood, her wrist clearly broken, her blouse and skirt coated in dark red. He scooped Sarah's limp form into his arms, brushing the hair from her face.

"Sarah? Oh, God...please talk to me..."

Dean had more wits about him at the time, and he more calmly felt for a pulse. "She's alive, Sammy. She needs a doctor."

She rolled her head sluggishly toward Sam's face, but her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out before she could say anything. He gathered her up and double-timed it back to the Impala, Colt still clutched in his right hand. He climbed into the back, still cradling her, as Dean slid into the driver's seat.

"We can find a hospi---"

"No," Sam cut his brother's suggestion off. "We need to get to her dad's house. You remember where it is from last time?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Daniel Blake's home wasn't far from the auction house. Dean had dropped Sarah off there once when they'd been in New Paltz. Sam would have been impressed with Dean's memory of the roads, if he hadn't been preoccupied.

They tried to get there, truly. They made it past firestorms and blocked roads. Dean ran an abandoned police roadblock. Sam killed three demons with the Colt as they fought their way into the elder Blake's home.

It was no use. Daniel Blake was dead long before they arrived, holed up in his house with a few others---Sarah's relatives, Sam guessed---and clearly trying to keep out the chaos beyond his doors. Sam wondered if Sarah had been able to warn them at all. From the amount of blood coating the walls and floors, a demon or demons had gotten there first. No warning could have helped.

Sam and Dean didn't like to run away. Defeat wasn't something John Winchester had been tolerant of, and his sons had been raised to win their battles. But, there were close to a dozen demons in the town---at least, maybe more---and they were but two hunters, charged with protecting a critically injured woman and down to six bullets in the Colt.

The battle for New Paltz had been fought and lost before the Winchesters had arrived on the scene. The human authorities didn't know what had hit them.

They chose to retreat. Joshua, one of the few hunting friends besides Bobby that had survived Meg's massacre, three years earlier, had a safe house in Trenton, New Jersey. They could hole up there while they got Sarah medical attention.

In the end, of the roughly 13,000 inhabitants of New Paltz in 2009, Sarah Blake would be one of only 300 survivors.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_October 30, 2015_

_St. Francis Hospital and Medical Center, Topeka_

Doctor Linda Horner was the best OB-GYN in Kansas, and specialized in difficult pregnancies of the sort Sarah was expected to have. She'd been treating Sarah for months with therapy and a few procedures that might help her overcome the damage that had complicated J.D.'s birth. She was hopeful that Sarah would be able to conceive and carry a second child with minimal risk.

Sam just prayed Horner wasn't being overly optimistic. She said their chances had improved greatly since the treatments had begun. But, as he sat waiting on the bench outside of Sarah's examination room, he couldn't help but feel that he was being kept in the dark.

Horner was old-fashioned, and had required him to wait outside during most of the exams. After butting heads with her a few times, Sarah had asked him to relent. That had broken Sam's stubbornness, and he unwillingly started spending the visits haunting the waiting area just outside the room from then on.

His cell chirped. It was Dean. Sam answered curtly. "Yeah?"

"_You terrorizing the staff again, Sasquatch?_"

"No," Sam lied, noticing the wary look one of the passing nurses gave him. He frowned. He wasn't that obnoxious, was he?

"_You're just overprotective, dude_," Dean said, somehow reading Sam's mind over the phone. "_Loosen up. Sarah tells you everything the doc tells her_."

Sam sighed. "I know. It's just---"

"_You're OCD. Don't tell me, man, I already know_."

"Ass," Sam muttered.

"_What was that?_"

"Nothing, reception's bad. What's J.D. doing?"

"_Um_," Dean stalled, and Sam could practically picture him looking over his shoulder. "_Looks like he's reorganizing your desk_."

"Aw, man. Dean!" J.D. had his father's mind and tall build, even at his young age. But, he had his uncle's sense of organization. Which was to say, he barely had any. "You know he's not supposed to be at the office unsupervised."

"_He's supervised_," Dean huffed. "_I'm here_."

"That's what I meant."

Doctor Horner opened the door and stepped out, and Sam missed whatever indignant reply his brother was giving him. "Gotta go, Dean. Doc's out."

Sam killed the connection and stood. Horner, already accustomed to his protective nature, smiled like a teacher that was pleased with her student's performance and motioned to the door. "We're done. You can go in, Sam."

He wondered how many other husbands had clashed with the stern woman, but decided to drop it as he headed to see Sarah.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_January 3, 2010_

_The Third Year of the War_

Sarah had traveled with them for almost two months after the attack. Her home town was gone. Her dad and the rest of her family had all perished in the blazes, despite Sam's attempts to reach them. Sam was all she had, and Dean hated the thought of separating them. However, safety was an issue. Hers.

As the war entered its third year, the stakes were getting higher. Demons were fighting for their lives now, and were more and more often resorting to outright killing and mass destruction rather than possessing people and wrecking havoc more subtlety. The only thing that had prevented them from overwhelming humanity already was the lack of a leader. Azazel's plan had failed. Sam refused the job, and made sure no others took it, either. Without an impartial leader, centuries of infighting and distrust kept the demons from uniting. As many demons had been killed by their own kind as by hunters.

But, in the third---and what would be final---year of the war, things changed. A few demons had rallied the cause, and joined several groups together in ways they hadn't been able to do before. The front lines, so precariously held by hunters until then, began to weaken.

Their job was getting more difficult every day. Ellen had already been killed. Joshua and Jefferson were missing and presumed dead. Bobby had lost an eye. Dean himself had gotten more bones broken in the last few months than in his first twenty-six years combined. Fortunately, they'd been easily treated breaks, since functioning hospitals that weren't hopelessly overwhelmed with patients were getting harder to find, especially around the big cities.

Sam hadn't faired much better.

So, it was a hard sell, but Dean had finally convinced Sam and Sarah to separate---since they couldn't guarantee her safety on the front lines---and they brought her to Lawrence. She would stay with Missouri until it was all over. Dean felt bad for having to do it, but in the end, he was doing it for Sam. His little brother had made Sarah's welfare his personal responsibility, and a blind man could see that they were becoming much more than friends, even if, strictly speaking, nothing was going on between them.

_Strictly_ speaking. High stress living conditions and equally high-running emotions led to all kinds of special circumstances. At least, that's what Sam kept telling Dean whenever he walked in on them. Dean knew how to express it in much smaller, cruder words.

He strained to pay attention to Missouri talking rather than overhear Sam's goodbye, but he found his ears had other ideas.

"It's just for a while. We'll swing back by here as often as we can. I promise."

"I'm scared, Sam. What if you---"

"I'll be fine. Dean and I can take care of ourselves. Missouri can keep you safe better than we can right now."

Dean also tried to ignore the fact that Sam had Sarah on the phone before they'd gotten down the street.

Yeah, a blind man could have seen it.

He didn't mind. If anyone deserved to have something happy in his life, it was Sam. And Sarah was Sam's last tie to those "normal" things he had once fought so hard for. She would be good for him, helping Sam stay grounded. Besides, Dean was beyond any feelings of jealousy or envy when it came to Sam and his relations with other people.

Sam had literally walked into Hell to save his older brother's life. If any deeply buried, insecure part of Dean had still questioned his younger sibling's loyalty, it had been destroyed at that moment.

No, Sam deserved a better life, and Dean would happily help it happen. He wouldn't lose his brother, he'd only gain another family member. Dean was all for that.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_April 10, 2010_

_One Month after the End of the War_

_Early Morning_

The demon war didn't end the way human wars usually did. There was no climactic battle, no victory parade, and no photo-ops. Even after the previously secret war had gone public.

Somehow, the government had gotten directly involved. The devastation of lower New York, Manhattan, and central Oklahoma was impossible to ignore. Stunned hunters watched as Army troops took up arms beside them. For people who'd spent their lives in the shadows, getting by through less than legal means, the attention was unwelcome, even if the added firepower was.

Dean and Sam had never learned who taught the Army how to fight demons. Clearly, they'd learned fast, and after a few bloody skirmishes in December of 2009, the tide quickly turned.

By late February of the next year, most of the fighting was over. The surviving demons had gone to ground, few daring to expose themselves to attention. An eerie calm---like one after a storm, rather than before it---settled over the world. Some continued to deny the existence of such blatantly evil creatures, while some acknowledged it openly. All, however, helped rebuild and went about burying the dead.

It was against that background that the Winchesters' lives slowed down. Bobby hadn't found them a lead to follow in weeks, and the lingering exhaustion they'd kept at bay for two-and-a-half years began to catch up with them.

As the days past, they actually started to relax, the constant fear of death and deadly determination that had fueled them receding. And Dean finally had the spare time to put an idea he'd been toying with into effect.

It had been clear for a long while that the stress of the war was wearing Sam down. The younger man hid it expertly, but Dean was a keen observer, and Sam could never hide much from him anyway. Sam needed a break, badly, and opportunity soon presented itself.

Missouri needed to visit a sick relative in Omaha, and needed someone to stay with Sarah. Six months after her attack, Sarah was still uncomfortable staying alone, even in a house as safe as Missouri Moseley's.

Dean jumped at offering Sam's services. He concocted a false need to run to Bobby's for "supplies," and instructed Sam to stay at Missouri's overnight with Sarah. Sam, true to form, objected.

"It would make more sense just to take her with us. We shouldn't split up."

Dean understood this for what it was. Sam was reluctant to let him out of his sight, as he had been for a long time, now. He shared the sentiment, but had that base covered already. "There's no reason to drag her all the way to South Dakota, Sammy. She won't have anything to do, anyway. You stay here and uh, _enjoy_ yourself."

Sam shook his head at the innuendo. "Dean…I don't want you to go by yourself, okay? I don't need 'shore leave,' that's not what this is about---"

"I _know_ what it's about, Sam," Dean countered hotly, anger clouding his features. The irrational bouts of rage he'd suffered with since escaping Hell were getting worse now that he didn't have a war to distract him. He struggled to get his mood under control before continuing. "I know. I do. But, you need a break."

Sam stared at him for a moment, before his face softened. "You're not going to Bobby's are you?"

Busted. Dean smirked, switching to his backup cover story. "No. Look, Sarah needs you, right now. And you need the rest. And I met this HOT---"

"Christ, Dean…we haven't been in town a _day_…." Sam moaned, rubbing his forehead in frustration. But, Dean could see the resolve cracking. He filled Sam in on the details, and his all-too-exhausted brother believed every word of it.

The reality of it was that Dean intended to go no further than the end of the street, just within view of Missouri's house. Like Sam, he couldn't bear being _truly_ separated for very long. But, Sam needed some time off, and Dean meant to give it to him, whether it was welcomed or not. A day spent running a few errands around town, and a night spent in the Impala were a small price to pay. And, despite his story to Sam, Bobby was actually nearby, and would be joining him on the "stakeout" so that Dean could sleep.

Dean counted it as one of his more creative plans.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_April 10, 2010_

_Later That Day_

Dean left him off at Missouri's in the morning, and by lunch, Sam was glad he stayed. He and Sarah ate, then spent the afternoon watching old movies and talking. In the three months since Sarah had been staying here---even calling her everyday---Sam had forgotten how much spending time with her affected him. It had been like that even when he'd first met her. Her presence even managed to soothe that persistent ache in his shoulder blades that had been nagging at him for months.

Dean checked in with him right before dinner. His brother was on his date, apparently enjoying himself. Sam talked to him for a while, then went back to making dinner. He tried unsuccessfully to put his nervousness out of his mind. He hadn't been separated from Dean this long in--- He couldn't remember how long.

He'd gotten used to being able to watch Dean's back 24 hours a day. It was unnerving to be without that luxury. He chastised himself. Dean was perfectly fine. He wasn't hunting, he was dating---that was Dean's second most practiced skill. He tried to turn his attention back to the matter at hand, and the attractive woman who was sharing the kitchen with him.

"So...this is a lot of food," Sarah said, breaking in on his thoughts. Sam smirked.

"Missouri told me you weren't eating enough," he replied easily.

Sarah laughed at that. "I don't think I _can _eat enough to make her happy."

Sam started getting the plates together to take to the table. "Well, you will tonight. Been a long time since I could put a dinner together that wasn't microwaved in a motel room."

Dinner went smoothly, and they made comfortable small talk while they ate, then settled into the den to watch another movie with some beers. Neither noticed how they kept moving closer together on the sofa throughout the evening.

When Sam woke the next morning, his hung-over mind had to take a few minutes and piece together exactly how he'd ended up wrapped around Sarah, facing the back of the sofa, beneath a comforter, with all their clothes piled in the floor.

The sound of the front door opening and someone stepping into the house registered a great deal faster, but he barely had time to even raise his head before he heard the voice.

"Sam Winchester, I know you and Sarah aren't messing around on my good couch!"

Missouri's exclamation woke Sarah, too, who let out a startled yelp. Panicked, Sam struggled to keep the comforter wrapped around their bare shoulders. "Uh, Missouri--- You're back! We were...uh... It was cold and we were just---"

"Sam, please," Missouri sighed, rubbing her temples. "I could guess what you two were doing even if you two weren't broadcasting the thoughts all over the place. I haven't seen this much of you since you were two!"

Missouri carried her bags upstairs, rubbing her forehead---and muttering about the dangers of leaving young people alone in her house.

Sam and Sarah glanced at each other as she disappeared up the steps, then burst out laughing.

Dean didn't stop making fun of him for weeks after he found out. Sam and Sarah started dating full time, as much as hunting would allow. Dean ribbed his little brother mercilessly about his new love life. Sam shrugged him off, enjoying the next two and a half months, and feeling truly alive for the first time in a long while.

In late June, while they were again visiting at Missouri's, Sarah told Sam that she was pregnant.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_October 30, 2015_

_St. Francis Hospital and Medical Center, Topeka_

Doctor Horner finished her examination and was going to check on a prescription, so Sam took the opportunity to leave the bench and join Sarah in the room.

"Hey."

Sarah glanced up and smiled nervously. "Hey."

"Everything all right?" he asked, feeling the tension in the room even before he got hit with Sarah's wave of anxiety. He blinked the sudden psychic discomfort back and moved to stand at her side. She watched him approach quietly, shifting slightly on the table.

"Think so. Linda says it looks good so far. She's making me another appointment in two weeks."

Sam smiled. "That's good, right?"

"Yeah."

He frowned. He'd seen her expression change right away. A cold knot formed in his gut. "Sarah, why are you lying to me?"

She seemed close to tears, and reached out so he could take her hand. "I'm sorry. Everything really is okay…I'm just scared."

He nodded, leaning over her to kiss her forehead. She gripped his hands tightly, not letting him pull away. He compromised by propping himself up on the uncomfortable mattress.

"Sam…Linda says it's going fine, so far, but--- The doctors were wrong before. And Dr. Pandi told us this would be difficult---"

"He also said that there was hope. He said that medicine's always finding new treatments."

"I know."

Sam smiled, showing more confidence than he felt, and hoping she wouldn't see through _his_ lies. He was just as terrified as she was. "We'll get through this. We got through J.D. just fine. Don't be scared."

Sarah nodded, and Sam felt her anxiety ease a little. He wished his would do the same.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_New Year's Eve, 2010_

New Year's was the first opportunity that Dean had to throw a party in his new house, and he loved every minute of it. He had Sam, Sarah, Bobby and Missouri over to bring in the New Year, along with a very attractive doctor named Liz whom he'd met in the cafeteria during one of Sarah's prenatal checkups. Somehow, she had not thought it was weird for him to be tagging along with his brother and his girlfriend for every single appointment, which scored her rather high in his book.

The war was over, they'd just opened Winchester Investigations for business, Sam and Sarah were more serious than ever---living together now and three months until the baby was born, which stunned Dean when he stopped to think---and Dean was ready to start having fun again---some fun of his own.

Tonight, the celebration was ramping up, the ball was dropping in Times Square---rebuilt in record time after demons trashed Manhattan---and Sam was about to steal the show.

When the ball reached five, Sam lowered a sparkling diamond ring into Sarah's line of sight, standing behind her seat on the sofa. Taken completely by surprise, she reached up and mutely took the ring from Sam's hand, while he stepped around and dropped to one knee in front of her.

"Sarah? Will you---"

"Yes," she whispered, tears flowing down her face. She launched herself at Sam, kissing him ferociously. When Sam was released and allowed to breathe again, he smirked.

"I was just gonna ask if you thought it would look good on Missouri..."

Sarah smacked him playfully. "Smart ass."

Sam sobered. "Seriously...Sarah, I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

She was crying again, and she wasn't the only one in the room. "Yes, I will."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_March 2011_

_St. Francis Hospital and Medical Center, Topeka_

Sam's psychic abilities had never gone away, even after the Yellow-Eyed Demon's death. His visions had returned to him while he was rescuing Dean from Hell, and he'd even had an uncontrollable burst or two of the telekinesis since then, usually when he was angry or desperate. But, none of the other Chosen Kids' abilities had surfaced, save for one. Empathy.

As frequently as his brother had ribbed him and called him "Captain Empathy," it stopped being funny when he actually started feeling other people's emotions and even their pain. It was strongest with Dean and Sarah, but occasionally he'd get a dose of a victim on the scene or a missing person he was focused on finding. Those days were usually pretty bad. As distracting as one's own feelings could be during a hunt, having someone else's invade your mind was worse. Those couldn't be controlled and often couldn't be ignored.

But, with his brother and new wife, Sam could read them pretty well, and---blessedly---had even learned how to tune them out on a day-to-day basis, so that he could have a little peace. That worked 99 percent of the time. The other 1 percent usually knocked Sam on his ass.

When Sarah went into labor with their child, the day quickly moved into that 1 percent. Sarah had been in labor for 22 hours, and despite the epidural, she was in agony. Sam, in scrubs by her side, had suffered along with her in ways no other husband he knew of ever could. He felt every moment of it.

Sarah's doctor had witnessed some things during the recent war, though, that prepared him for Sam's plight. It was odd to see a husband literally sharing his wife's pain, but Doctor Pandi had seen stranger things. The nurse and orderlies were too busy trying to keep Sarah Winchester alive to worry about why her husband seemed to be getting tortured on the other side of the bed. Dr. Pandi made sure to keep an eye out for him when he could, but it wasn't easy.

Giving birth to her baby, given the old injuries inflicted by the demon in New Paltz, almost killed Sarah. The damage to her reproductive system was more widespread than the records from Trenton indicated, and even Sarah's obstetrician---whom Dr. Pandi was subbing for---had missed some of the problems that were causing so much trouble now.

"Sarah?" Pandi called, keeping his tone calming. "I can see the head, all right? We're almost there, and then you can rest. Stay with me?"

Sarah nodded, her teeth clenched. Sweat poured off her brow and her eyes were slightly glazed over. Sam, who didn't look much better, used a towel to dab the sweat away from her eyes.

"Hear that, baby?" Sam whispered breathlessly. "Almost done. Just a little longer and we can go home, okay?"

Pandi didn't correct Sam, since the words seemed to help Sarah's spirits so much. Mrs. Winchester would be staying in the hospital for a few more days…at least.

Another hour and it was over. The little boy Sarah had given birth to was perfectly healthy, but Pandi wanted to keep him under observation for a little while before letting the new parents hold him. Sarah, while weak from blood loss and trauma, would recover given time. Sam looked like he could sleep for a week. Their bedraggled appearance made what the doctor had to say all the more difficult.

"Mrs. Winchester…I know you've been through a lot, but we should talk about your condition before your family comes in." Pandi noted the protective arm Sam snaked around Sarah's midsection, and knew then that they wouldn't react well to the news.

"The injuries you suffered from your---" he paused when their expressions grew guarded and worried. "…your attack were somewhat more complicated than your previous doctors noticed. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on their part, a hope that you would heal better than--- Were you planning on having any more children?"

Sarah looked taken aback by the question. Sam looked like he already knew what was coming. Pandi softened his expression, and took a step closer to his patients.

"Look, Sarah, Sam. I just got the report on your child, he's fine. A little tired, I'm sure you can guess, but he's healthy and strong. And…he will likely be your only child."

They took it harder than Pandi had feared, and he'd expected it to be bad. They looked devastated.

"You're sure, doc?" Sam asked, holding his forehead to his wife's temple. "It's that bad?"

"No one can say with absolute certainty," Pandi said carefully. "But given the extent of the difficulties Sarah experienced with this birth, and the tearing along the---"

Sarah held up hand, silencing him. Her voice was hard and businesslike when she spoke. "Bottom line, doctor. Please."

"Sarah…bringing this child to term, and giving birth successfully, was a miracle. It's unlikely that you could ever conceive again, and, even if you could, it's highly probable that you could die during labor."

They looked like he'd dropped the floor out from under them. He tried to soften the blow. "If you did decide to try again, later on, there are always new treatments and procedures being developed. New drugs. Therapy. It's not hopeless, but it is _very_ dangerous. And you deserve to know how difficult having another child might be."

Sarah's eyes were fixed on the floor, and she didn't speak again. Sam's eyes were glued on his wife, but spoke quietly, guardedly hopeful, and Pandi knew he was trying to lift Sarah's spirits. "If…if we do want to have another child…what? Fifty-fifty chance?"

Pandi wished he could lie to them, but he had to look out for their health, since their previous doctors had glazed over it. "Eighty-twenty. Against. I'm sorry, I truly am."

"I'd like to see my son," Sarah said quietly, ending the conversation.

"Of course. I'll send your family in as well, if you like."

They nodded.

Dean, "Uncle" Bobby and "Aunt" Missouri joined them a few minutes later. Dean immediately picked up on the tension in the room.

"What? What's wrong?"

Sam looked at him, silently imploring him to drop it. "We'll talk later, okay? It's been a rough day…."

Dean was about to reply when a nurse entered, carrying a baby wrapped in a blue blanket. She brought the bundle to Sarah, and placed the infant in his mother's arms before excusing herself.

The mood in the room shifted immediately. Sam and Sarah both brightened, and everyone else followed suit.

"He's beautiful, baby," Missouri said, rubbing a finger over the baby's head.

Dean clamped a hand on his little brother's shoulder. "You did good, Sammy."

"Have you picked a name, yet?" Bobby asked, looking, but hanging politely back.

Sarah and Sam glanced at each other, and Missouri grinned, reading it before Sam spoke. "Yeah…John. John Dean."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_July 2016_

_St. Francis Hospital and Medical Center, Topeka_

_Intensive Care Unit_

Doctor Pandi ended up being right. Sarah's second child---another boy---barely made it, and Sarah lapsed into a coma after forty-eight hours in labor. She was moved into ICU as soon as she was stable, and Sam didn't leave her side.

Dean, for his part, was never far from Sam's. "Sammy?"

No response. Sam just sat there, slowly brushing Sarah's hair back with one hand, while bracing himself against the bed with the other. He'd barely moved from that spot in three days. Dean reached out and shook his brother's shoulder gently.

"Sam? You need to eat. You didn't touch that sandwich before." _The one from yesterday_...

Still nothing. It was almost like Sam was in a coma, too. Given the weirdo psychic stuff Sam had demonstrated over the years, Dean couldn't discount the possibility. If he could feel Sarah's pain during labor, maybe he'd gotten sucked down into unconsciousness right along with her.

Dean stepped closer, trying to get into Sam's field of vision. "Talk to me, man..."

Something must have gotten through, since Sam cocked his head slightly away from him. "I should've listened..."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"They said it was dangerous," Sam continued in that flat, empty tone. "I shouldn't have pushed her into it. It's my fault. I just wanted another kid so bad---"

Dean reached out and grabbed Sam by the chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. Fury bubbled over in Dean, and he didn't even know where it was coming from. "No. _Both _of you wanted to try. You don't get to blame yourself for this, Sam! Don't insult Sarah like that."

He stopped cold when Sam's tears registered. They hit Dean like a splash of cold water, and his anger evaporated as quickly as it came. At least he recognized, this time, that his emotions were verging on out-of-control: now was definitely not the time for one of his mood swings. He crouched low and pulled Sam into a hug. "Sorry...I'm sorry, Sammy."

His little brother was almost deadweight in his arms, and Dean involuntarily remembered that awful night in Cold Oak.

Fortunately, Sam spoke before he could sink deeper into the memory. "I just don't know what to do, Dean. I wanted J.D. to have a brother---I mean, a sister would have been fine, too---but...I just wanted him to know what having a brother was like. I didn't think this would happen."

Dean heard the despair in Sam's voice. It was the same tone he remembered in his father's voice so long before, after the fire, after he'd lost almost everything. Dean realized at that moment that history was in danger of repeating itself. Sam might be left alone, with two children that reminded him too much of their mother.

Dean's hero worship for his father had somehow survived John's death, the war, Hell itself...but it wasn't quite as polished as it once was. Certainly not as blinding. John had done his best, Dean knew, but Sam would be a _better _father, and Dean wanted him to have the chance to prove it.

He couldn't let it happen, couldn't let another Winchester mother die, not again. He'd drag a hoodoo priest or even a reaper in here before he let that kind of tragedy befall the Winchester family _again_.

"We'll fix this, Sam. I swear," he whispered back. "But, you gotta take care of yourself. For her and for your kids."

Sam stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. His unshaven face scratched at Dean's neck. "I'll go home, take a shower..."

"Good, 'cause you stink," Dean said, smirking even though he didn't feel the humor inside. It worked though, and a faint smile crossed Sam's face, the first one in days.

"I just need a minute," Sam said, turning back to Sarah's still form.

Dean patted him on the shoulder. "Missouri and J.D. are keeping Sammy Jr. company. They'll be down in a few minutes. I'll go out and meet them, okay? Take your time."

Dean still hadn't gotten used to the idea of the new baby being named Sam. Sarah had insisted on it, though Sam argued with her until the very last minute. Sam had felt it selfish to have both kids named for his side of the family, and wanted to name the new baby for Sarah's father. In the end, Sarah prevailed.

Dean thought it was kind of cool. A little Sam and a little Dean...that was weird. But, maybe _this_ Sam and Dean might have easier lives.

Sam nodded again, kissing Sarah lightly and pressing his forehead to hers. Dean turned away, unable to watch Sam say goodbye. He almost made it to the door when he heard Sam's whispered words.

"_I love you_. _Please don't leave me_..."

Dean stepped through and closed the door to give Sam his privacy. Outside, he ran right into Liz. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak. He'd almost forgotten she worked at this hospital. Or maybe it was that he _tried _to forget.

"Dean...hi. Um...I just--- I heard about Sarah and---"

"Hey," Dean stammered. "Yeah, she's--- Uh, well, she's not good. Sam's in with her now."

"I guess Sam's taking it pretty hard."

"Yeah."

Liz glanced toward the door, then back at Dean, looking uncomfortable. "So...it's been, what, two years?

Dean recovered finally, masking his surprise, and the pain seeing his ex-fiancé dredged up. "Three, actually."

Some unidentifiable emotion flickered across her face. Her tone was slightly bitter when she spoke. "I see you're still good at shutting people out..."

Dean's mask didn't slip, despite the barb. One of the things that had driven Liz away was his habit---need?---to close up and keep his feelings to himself. He kept his tone neutral. "I can do it when I need to."

Was that disappointment on her face now? Liz stepped back. "I can come back later. I just wanted to see her..."

As she turned, Dean found himself stepping forward involuntarily. "Liz...Sam'll be out in a minute, I'm taking him home. You can wait here if you want."

She didn't turn back right away. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Dean."

"You've never made me uncomfortable," he admitted quietly. He was saved from explaining that comment to her when Missouri appeared, holding J.D.'s hand. The five year old was unusually quiet. Normally, one of them would be restraining him. Even his mother's condition during the past few days hadn't dimmed his energy.

Today, however, was different. While Missouri moved to talk to Liz---looking pointedly from Dean to J.D. as she passed---Dean stepped over and knelt in front of the sullen boy. J.D. looked away for a moment, wiping his wet eyes, reminding Dean eerily of Sam. The kid was already picking up his dad's mannerisms.

"What's the matter kiddo?"

J.D. looked like he wanted to speak, but then shook his head. Dean frowned.

"Come on, buddy, you can talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Daddy's sad," the boy muttered miserably. "I don't like it when he's sad."

Dean frowned for a moment. His nephew was as perceptive as Sam, too. He knew Sam had been putting on a brave face for J.D.---the few times he'd been allowed into Sarah's room---and Dean had honored his brother's attempt to shield the boy from the worst of this. Missouri had been taking him upstairs with his new baby brother to keep him busy.

"He's just worried," Dean lied. "Everything's okay, your Dad's not sad."

It didn't work. J.D. shook his head, not wavering under Dean's gaze. "Yes, he is. He's scared, too..."

That one hurt. Dean knew from experience how rattling it could be for a child to know his father was afraid. But, the certainty in the child's voice made him pause. He knew they'd kept him from knowing the extent of Sarah's coma, and Sam hadn't told him any---

"How do you know that?"

He didn't get an answer. Concerned, he glanced back at Missouri, finding her watching the conversation intently, even while talking politely with Liz. Dean didn't like what he saw in her eyes. His anxiety ratcheted up a notch. He turned back to J.D. and put steel in his voice.

"J.D., I asked you how you knew that."

He hadn't used his "parental" voice since--- Heck, he didn't even know how long...but it still worked. J.D. looked back at him, looking like he had been caught his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

The boy mumbled something unintelligible, and Dean asked him to repeat it.

"I can feel it."

"What do you mean, 'feel it?'"

"Up here," J.D. said, tapping his head. Dean's blood ran cold. Was it really happening? J.D. was a little young, but...

_Great, Sam's gonna _love _this_...

Dean frowned, shaking his head slightly. If J.D. was a psychic like his father, and his abilities were already coming out...Sam didn't need to deal with this right now. He had enough on his plate with Sarah and new baby. Best to keep it quiet for a little while. He'd take the heat for keeping secrets later.

"J.D., we need to keep this between us for now okay? We can tell your Dad when your Mom gets better. All right?"

He got a small nod in response. Dean leaned in and whispered. "You're right, your Dad's scared, but he's trying to keep it a secret, and we gotta help him out, okay? We need to be strong for him. Can you help me do that?"

Another nod. "Okay, little man. How's your brother?"

"Still in the aquarium."

Dean smiled. The "aquarium" was J.D.'s way of describing the incubator his baby brother was being kept in until he was stronger. The birth had been hard on the baby as well.

Dean brushed J.D.'s too long hair out of his face. "Well, he'll be out soon, and you'll be throwing the football around with little Sammy in no time."

The door opened behind him, and Sam emerged, looking haggard, but keeping his emotions in check now. The strain was showing around his eyes, but he managed a small smile for Dean, and a bigger one for his son. His eyes traveled over the people waiting, settling on Liz. "Hey."

She rose and gave Sam a quick hug. "Sam...I'm so sorry..."

Sam exchanged a few quiet words with her, before turning to Dean. "Ready?"

"Ready when you are."

J.D. ran over and wrapped himself around Sam's leg, staying there until being hoisted up into his dad's arms. "You're getting heavy, dude."

The boy buried his head against Sam's shoulder, eliciting a frown from Sam. "You okay?"

J.D. raised his head at that, then glanced at Dean. He paused, then met Sam's stare head-on. "Yeah, Daddy. You looked like you needed a chick-flick moment."

Sam laughed at that. "Yeah, I guess I did. You wanna go home for a few minutes? You and your uncle haven't eaten anything all day...you're both liable to start gnawing on the furniture."

With J.D. in tow, they went downstairs. It was a 45-minute round trip from the hospital to the house and back. They were back in the ICU in just over an hour. Sam had showered, shaved, made a quick lunch for all three of them, and flipped disinterestedly through three days worth of mail, all inside 15 minutes.

"You know, this wasn't what I meant when I said you needed a break," Dean remarked with annoyance.

Sam ignored him, handing J.D. off to Missouri before disappearing back inside Sarah's room.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_July 2016_

_St. Francis Hospital and Medical Center, Topeka_

_Two Days Later_

Sarah's recovery was anti-climatic. One minute, Sam was dozing lightly at her bedside, letting the heart monitor lull him to sleep. The next, she woke him by grasping his hand.

Sam jerked awake, blinking tiredly. "Wha--- Sarah?"

"Hey..." she whispered, taking a moment to glance around the room. "What did I miss?"

He scooped her up into his arms, as much as the wires and tubes would allow, and buried his face in her neck.

"Just my nervous breakdown," Sam whispered with a quiet, exhausted laugh. "And your new son's first blink."

Sarah grasped his hand harder---a feat, considering how weak she felt in his arms---and Sam turned to look her in the face. She swallowed thickly before speaking again.

"Is he all right?"

"He's fine. The doctor said it was rough for a while, but he's sleeping in the pediatric ward upstairs. He's off the ventilator," Sam said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "I'll ask if they'll let us see him."

He helped her take a sip of water from the glass on the table, then reached down and pushed the call button. "Let me get the doc in here..."

She touched his cheek. "How long have you been sitting here?"

He paused, knowing a lecture was coming, but decided he didn't care so long as she was up and talking. "Too long. Don't worry, Dean's been making me eat."

"What about J.D.?"

"He's fine. Missouri's been keeping him with little Sam. She says they're really hitting it off, so far."

When the doctor arrived to examine her, Sam volunteered to go out and tell the others Sarah was awake.

Missouri was sitting quietly on a bench, reading. She looked up as he exited the room, a broad smile forming on her face. "Oh, baby..."

Dean and J.D. were looking at something on the laptop, but closed it as soon as they saw Sam approach.

"You better not be showing him any pictures, Dean," he said with a smirk. A quick glance at Missouri---and the smile on her face---confirmed that she already knew why he'd come out.

"Who, me?" Dean asked innocently. Too innocently. Sam's eyes narrowed, and Dean began to squirm.

"Girls?" Sam asked, warily.

J.D. chimed in before Dean could. "The Impala! Uncle Dean uploaded some of the new pictures from his camera."

Sam laughed. "That's even worse. That thing belongs in a museum."

He blinked when his son swatted at his knee. "That's sacra--- Sacra--"

"Sacrilege," Dean offered helpfully.

"Yeah, that's sacra-lidge, Daddy!"

"You two are spending _way _too much time together."

"How is she?" Dean asked, turning serious as he rose from the chair.

"She woke up a few minutes ago," Sam replied, sighing in relief.

Dean grinned and pulled Sam into an embrace. "Thank God."

Sam chuckled into Dean's shoulder. "Twice in as many days, big brother? You're gettin' soft in your old age."

When Dean predictably started to pull away, Sam just held on tighter. "Uh-uh. No take-backs, jerk."

Dean settled, and switched to a bear hug so he could squeeze the air out of Sam's lungs. He grinned and whispered so J.D. wouldn't hear. "You are such a little bitch, Sammy."

"She's okay, right?" Dean asked, releasing him.

Sam nodded, unable to stop smiling. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I'm gonna go back in and talk to the doctor."

The doctors kept Sarah under observation for another week before releasing her. Sam, Dean and Missouri took shifts keeping her company. Little Sam was released the same day as his mother.

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_August 1, 2016_

_Topeka, Kansas_

Sam settled onto the back step with a weary sigh, ignoring the gray clouds hanging ominously over the back yard. Another summer thunderstorm was brewing, from the looks of it. He swirled his coffee around in its mug, but didn't bother drinking it. That pot wasn't strong enough to help, anyway. All he wanted to do was sleep for about a month. _Too bad humans can't hibernate like bears. And demons_...

He jumped when a pair of boots came into his peripheral vision and Dean plopped down beside him. His brother must have been feeling charitable, since he didn't comment on how Sam had completely missed hearing his approach. Instead, he simply handed over a beer and settled in with his shoulder touching Sam's.

"What's this? It's like nine o'clock in the morning..." Sam asked, eyeing the beer bottle, but welcoming the shoulder to help him stay upright.

"Try one in the afternoon," Dean corrected gently. At Sam's look, he added, "It's overcast, it's okay."

Sam checked his watch, unable to comprehend--- How had that happened? He'd lost track of time completely during the past few days. _He11, I thought it was still Tuesday_...

"I guess I lost track," he muttered. Sarah was home, but confined to her bed, save the weekly doctor's appointments. She was improving rapidly, but that left Sam to take care of the house, J.D. and Little Sammy. Dean was helping, but he had to take care of the business while Sam was out, and his time was being eaten up as well.

It had seemed like a Godsend when Missouri arrived---unannounced---and moved herself into the guest room that morning. Sam couldn't complain about the lack of warning, since she was the reason he was able to sit out here and take a break at all.

Dean took a swig of his beer. "You've been running yourself ragged since they came home, dude. You're gonna get sick if you aren't careful."

As if on cue, J.D.'s voice rang out, "Daddy! I think Sammy's hungry!"

Sam sighed heavily and started to rise, but Dean's hand gripped his shoulder and held him down. He tried to shrug it off, but was shocked to find out he barely had the energy to make the attempt. Dean met his glare with a stern one of his own.

"Let Missouri handle it, that's why she came."

Sam relented and settled back on the step. Dean's hand dropped away when Sam let his shoulders relax. "I'm so tired, Dean."

"I know. That's why Sarah and I called Missouri."

"You and--- What?" _Sarah decided that?_

"After I asked if you were taking care of yourself the other day---and you _lied _to me and said you _were_---I asked your wife and got the truth," Dean said pointedly. "We decided to call in some help. Bobby will be here tomorrow and they'll start switching off. You're off duty for the next week, at least."

"I'm fine. I just need to sleep for a few minutes," Sam grumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because twenty minute naps and a gallon of coffee a day has worked so well for you so far? You can barely stand up, Sammy."

Sam couldn't argue with that. Saying nothing, he just rested against the steps, his left shoulder against the porch railing and his right against his brother's._ Fine, be a jerk about it_...

They sat, nursing their beers and watched the yard as it began to rain. The porch overhang protected them, so they didn't even have to move their feet.

After a few minutes of zoning out, Sam glanced over at Dean. "Shouldn't you be at the office?"

"Closed early. Got three new cases this morning, though. Big spenders, too. We'll be sitting pretty when we finish the jobs."

Sam absorbed that, and considered arguing that he should be helping out at the office, but dismissed it. Dean clearly wasn't in the mood to listen to reason, Sam could tell by the tone of his voice.

"I hear Sarah's latest test results were good," Dean asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, she should be back on her feet in a few days."

A few more minutes went by, and Sam found himself enjoying the comfortable silence. The beer was fogging his exhausted brain a bit, already.

"I heard you and Liz were going out on a date..." Sam asked lazily, almost slurring.

"Dinner," Dean corrected. Was that regret in his voice?

"Trying again?" Sam asked, sagging against the porch railing. _I must be more tired than I thought_.

"Nah. Just friends. I can't--- I wouldn't want to put her through that again."

Sam frowned. "You're doing a lot better, Dean. You---"

"Nah," Dean repeated softly, but firmly. "Besides, you guys need me more than Liz does, right now."

"Dean---"

"You really look like crap, bitch. You're getting too old to be a superhero, you know," Dean smirked.

Sam couldn't argue with that either. He felt like he had been put through a wringer. Or a garbage disposal. Still, he could rally to defend himself.

"You'll always be older than me, jerk. Remember that."

"You're a mean drunk, Sammy."

They fell back into a peaceful silence. The rain was letting up already. It would probably do this all day. Sam drained the last of his beer and set the bottle on the step beneath them. The events of the last few weeks had left him feeling as drained as the bottle. "_Normal _isn't what it's cracked up to be, is it?"

Dean glanced at him, then shrugged. "I dunno. We've got a home, a family, steady work that's right up our alley, doesn't seem so bad. Sure, there's been a few speed bumps."

"Yeah," Sam snorted. "Near-death speed bumps---"

"She's _fine_, Sammy. The docs said she'll be on her feet soon. You made it through in one piece, that's all you can ask for."

Sam stared at him for a moment, wanting to believe his brother. He'd been running on fear and determination for so long, it was hard to turn it off. Relief wasn't something Sam had allowed himself to feel in a long time. Could he stop and let his guard down, now?

In the end, the combination of exhaustion and alcohol made the decision for him. He shrugged, gripping Dean's knee with his hand.

"I'm sorry. I just--- I've been scared, Dean. I came so close to losing her..."

"But, you didn't. That's what counts. She's a trooper. And, besides," Dean grinned. "I don't think she's giving you up anytime soon."

Sam tried to reply, but his eyes were drifting shut and he couldn't find the words he wanted to say.

"Let's put you to bed, before you fall off the porch," Dean said, pulling Sam upright and hoisting him to his feet. Sam swayed a bit, nearly asleep on his feet already. "Sarah's waiting for you upstairs."

"When you get some rest, you, me and Sarah need to talk about J.D."

Something in Dean's tone perked Sam's ears up, and he struggled to focus. "What's wrong?"

"In the morning, Sammy. In the morning."


End file.
